Home Improvement Is a Mirror (and a Way to Transform Trauma)
For more than a year, I’ve been renovating and improving a tiny condo in a little mountain town in North Carolina. When I purchased it, my vision for it was very different than how it’s turned out – for a few reasons. After hurricane Helene hit western NC so hard, and I ended up with a tree on my house in Asheville, and no potable water for a month (was it a month?), and after having already survived hurricane Katrina devastation and trauma in New Orleans many years ago, I felt like I needed a back up plan. I needed to minimize the probability of having no real home of my own again (an awful feeling), so, I decided to purchase a second/vacation home. I know that’s not a possibility for most people, and I acknowledge that privilege, while being grateful that it was an option for me.
I found a place in the devastated little town of Banner Elk, NC, knowing the market would be likely be kind post-disaster, and hoping the town would recover in time (it did). The plan was to use it occasionally, Airbnb it mostly, and to have it in case I ever needed it in an emergency. This felt like safety to me, and freedom from survival mode and weather-related fears (also an awful feeling). For those of use who endured hurricane Helene or Katrina, or any other major disaster, you understand that feeling. For me, this was the second time in a major way, and it hit hard. It was traumatic.
After purchasing the condo, the renovations ensued – a kitchen gut and upgrade, damaged ceilings redone, ceiling fans and air conditioning installed, door replacements, painting, etc. Then, the furnishing began, with the plan to make it aesthetically pleasing and comfortable, but also durable and appropriate to rent to Airbnb guests. After renting it out for about a year, with all the trials and tribulations that ensued, this little mountain chalet has taken on a new role – as a more permanent home for me, something I did not envision at the time I bought it. Working remotely allows me to be wherever I want to be, and with the decision to begin living life on my own terms (and the subsequent dissolution of my marriage), it made sense to go there. I view it as a happy place.
Now that it is my primary residence, the improvements have begun again in earnest, but this time with an eye for my own comfort and well being. I am consciously taking on projects in a meaningful way, knowing that what I do, and how I do it, is a direct reflection of my thoughts and feelings. I do believe that your home and living space are a reflection of your mind. We can influence our space, but our space also influences us, and at this point in my journey, I would like to create a space that supports me in this next phase of life, whatever that ends up looking like. What that means is that I want it to be simple, beautiful, artistic, and nurturing. I want it to be my safe landing.
The first thing I did, after moving my things in (only what I need, and not what I don’t need), was to install two doggie gates to contain the pups on the balcony. I am aware that I chose to take care of them before myself, a mindful but ironic decision - and a work in progress. This involved transforming two fence pieces, and adding hinges and a lock, to create a gate. I am proud of myself for doing this because, not only did I do all of the manual labor and execution myself, but I also came up with the design and the plan. The conscious part of this is that I did it on my own, which was freeing and empowering.
I’ve also been, slowly but surely, repainting the balcony. It’s weathered, with chipped paint and a bit of “patina.” Mindfully, I’ve been going over each spindle and rail as an act of renewal, and this is also a work in progress. This is part of my transformation goals for the entire condo – that everything will be functional, simplified, beautiful, cared for, and a reflection of how I’d like to feel inside. No more neglect, no more overwhelm, and just enough space that I don’t have to compete for. Just peace, beauty, and freedom.